


Splinters

by RittaPokie



Series: Tales From the Dragon Age [1]
Category: Dragon Age
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-07-24 08:19:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7500960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RittaPokie/pseuds/RittaPokie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tale of Diaden Lathvhen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Keeper

**Author's Note:**

> From my original clan in Thedas, Lathvhen.

Bright and full of life, at the young age of twenty-two, Diaden takes his place as Keeper. As the _first_ Keeper of the clan since they marched from Tevinter. His heart is heavy as the crown of dried flowers and vines is rested upon his head as he kneels before their Shaman of Mythal. When he stands, he stands not as an elf, but as a beacon of truth and light for the clan.

"I grant you the title of Keeper, Diaden Hanin'len, on behalf of the Protector. I grant you this title with confidence that you will lead us to greatness, as your grandfather did." The Shaman says. There had been no question he would take this position. His grandfather marched with Andraste and did his part to free the elves. Diaden's parents were children at the time. The new Keeper is one of the first few generations born entirely free.

Diaden turns to address the other elves. "I accept this station with honor, Shaman. I will do all that is within my power to make us safe, and to build a home for us in the Dales, for I so love my people." He smiles at his subjects. "And we need a name, all of us, as we are family."

"What will you call us, Keeper?" A young woman from the small crowd asks.

"Lathvhen." He says, without hesitating. "Love of the people."

\---

His first act as Keeper was popular, the name he chose was agreed upon almost unanimously. His second act, however, was far less liked.

"They could cast you out." Inthil says.

Diaden listens, but does not reply, so transfixed is he by the way the sunlight through the trees illuminates her. "They could." He agrees after a few moments. He positions another wildflower in her hair. "I'm hoping they will see..."

"All they will see is one of the ancient bloods marrying someone else's slave." She sighs, grabbing his hands to keep him from adorning her further. It is a tradition to cover those who are to be bonded in flowers. "I am lesser."

"We were all slaves once." Diaden says.

"But we don't all carry the blood of the Evanuris in our veins." She huffs. "They'll never allow this and you know it. You're wasting your time."

He ignores her and links a chain of gold around her neck. "Do you love me, vhenan?"

"Of course." She says. "It is why I remind you of reality, I can't bear you getting lost in foolish fantasy."

He presses gentle kisses to her cheeks. "I love you." He says. "I don't care what they'll think, what they'll allow... If they cast us out, then we'll go to another clan. We both have skills that make us useful."

"You can't leave your people, Diaden." She sighs again, "You love them."

"I love you more."

"You don't mean that." Her eyes are sad but the tiniest of smiles tugs her lips.

"Please?" His voice is quiet as he begs. "Love should mean more than bloodlines and classism."

\---

His grandfather stands on old, shaky knees as they pass by him to the central fire in the middle of camp. "What are you doing with her? Why is she in such vestments?" He ignores the old man and positions himself and Inthil at the center of the clan, with all eyes on them.

"You're out of your mind." Inthil whispers. "They'll never accept me."

"They won't have a choice." He whispers back, a grin tugging at his lips. He has waited for this moment, bided his time until he was Keeper, so that he could bond with his love.

He clears his throat and links arms with Inthil. "My first act as Keeper was to give our clan a name. My second will be to bond with my only love, Inthil Mehyan."

A murmur of shock passes through the crowd. Diaden's grandfather's face twists into a snarl. "You can't be serious. She's- she's-"

"A slave?" Diaden asks. "And what were you before a human marched upon Tevinter? None of us are more than another, not a single one. There is no place for that here. We are all equal and needed, even the Fen'Elvhen are our kin. Their place is simply not here, with us, but in places where their unique abilities can hinder those who would bring us harm. Those who remain with us serve their purpose, as we all do, and deserve no less respect, even if they cannot serve at higher stations because of the curse."

Despite the shock and dismay of the higher class of elves, the bonding ceremony begins. Diaden and Inthil stand together and hold hands. They will stay this way until they can no longer hold each other up.

Diaden searches the face of each elf in the crowd, his gaze falls upon a pair of purple eyes, hard and cold with resentment that he cannot place. The man is older than him by at least twenty years. The young Keeper knows the man as one of the Fen'Elvhen. He is...different than the rest. Most of the Cursed Ones are content to serve the Shaman. Some might think of them as slaves, but the clan uses no currency. No one is paid for their labor in gold, but are provided with food and a place to rest in return for their service to the clan. The Fen'Elvhen receive no less than others in the clan. Those with the blood of the Evanuris are held in higher regard, but even they must earn their keep.

The purple eyed one, Zen, as he calls himself, sends whispers through the Fen'Elvhen that they are seen as lesser. Lathvhen has been a clan of elves for half a century now; it was loose and unorganized in Tevinter, a small group of elven slaves who communed to worship and share stories whenever they could. The curse has existed for longer than Diaden can remember, longer than his grandfather can remember.

Always, the Fen'Elvhen were sent away to more cruel masters and rival clans because they bring bad luck wherever they go. Since the clan came to the Dales, some have been allowed to stay and serve the Shaman. Most seem drawn to the Protector. Diaden finds that odd, as most of them secretly hold the Dread Wolf in high regard.

Much of what the Fen'Elvhen do seems guided by some otherworldly instinct, and many seem unaware of this fact. They naturally group together in packs, submitting to one leader. Diaden remembers their previous matriarch, a very old, kindhearted woman who spoke of peace and the elves' misunderstanding of the Dread Wolf. The old woman passed the winter before, and now it seems that Zen is rising to take her place. Diaden does not know much about him, only that he always seems to be plotting.

Inthil's hand squeezing his own brings him back from his thoughts. "So lost in your head, always." She smiles. "I can't believe this is real."

"I told you I would find a way." He says, beaming. "We can finally start our life together..."


	2. Fork In the Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life paths often splinter, leading us to wrong or right. On occasion, we are forced along a bloody path by events beyond our control.

Raids on the Fen'Elvhen camps were generally routine. Before his brother went missing, Diaden had no reason to disturb the camps at all, but now any one could hold Evir. He could only hope his brother was a captive and not worse. It is a large one this time; so near to Lathvhen's main camp, it is likely that they were following. His Hunters call to him from deeper into the camp.

Smoke hangs heavy in the air with the scent of charred wood and blood. They must have killed a dozen this time, at least, he thinks. "Keeper, we..." Inthil says, downcast. "Your brother is here." She finishes after a moment.

Diaden nods. The look in his lieutenant's eyes tells him all he needs to know. His brother is not a captive, never was. The worst has come true, Evir joined the Fen'Elvhen. "Is he dead?" The Keeper asks quietly.

"Wounded. We have him restrained." She shows Diaden to the clearing where the bodies of the Fen'Elvhen have been laid out to identify. Evir is bound nearby.

Diaden kneels next to his younger brother and tugs the boy's hand away from the blood on his stomach to inspect the injury. Evir's head snaps up and he snarls at the sight of his brother, smacking the hand away. "Do not dare touch me."

"Lethallin..." Diaden frowns. "Please..."

Evir's eyes are cold. "You speak to me after murdering my kin." He says.

"The Fen'Elvhen are not your kin, I am." Diaden says. "They are a blight as much as the darkspawn-"

"How dare you!" He shouts, grimacing as it irritates his wound. "They are my friends! It is you who is the blight!"

"I am doing what is best for the clan." Diaden argues.

"You are wrong!" Evir spits at him. "You sell my kin to Tevinter."

"I sell bad luck to the shemlen. The coin feeds the clan. Where do you think your bread came from, da'len?" Diaden asks.

"It sickens me to think of it. I will not be complacent to your evils any longer." He struggles out of his brother's arms and pulls a knife from his boot. "Fen'Harel ma halam."

Two of the Hunter's grab at Evir while three more step in front of the Keeper. Diaden pushes between them. "Please, lethallin. See reason!"

"I will not reason with a tyrant!" Evir yells. He glances at the guards and then holds the knife at his own throat. "I cannot kill you, but you will not have me."

"Brother, please! What have they filled your head with? You believe the lies they tell over your blood-kin? Please-" He takes a step closer but the other presses the knife into his skin and slits his own throat. Diaden barely hears his own screaming as he rushes forward and catches him as he falls. Blood soaks him but he does not notice. "Evir, no- no, Creators, please let this be a bad dream..."

Blood seeps into the ground around them as he cradles his little brother's body. "Please..." He murmurs, rocking back and forth. "Wh-why, why...why?" The Hunters stand in shock as Diaden's agonized sobs fill the air around them.

When he finally stands, rain has begun to fall lightly on the clearing. He remarks silently to himself that it is fitting, that perhaps the Creators weep as he has wept. He feels rage stirring under his pain, and he embraces it in favor of mourning. There is no time for tears, not when the Fen'Elvhen persist. He would have let them take the clan if he knew Evir would end up dead. Now, though, that is not an option. He sets his jaw and swallows the sadness tightening his throat.

He turns to his Hunters to address them and sees pity in every eye his gaze falls on. He ignores it. "The time for compromise and mercy is at an end." He says, his voice eerily calm. "No more prisoners will be taken. I order you, whenever you encounter one of the Fen'Elvhen, they must die. Slit their throats. Cut out their lying tongues and bring them to me."

The Hunters nod, straightening their posture. "I will see that your will is done, Keeper." Inthil says.


	3. A Quieter Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We must be grateful for the soft moments that life grants us, as it may never do so again.

"I wonder sometimes if Evir was right, if I truly am deluded." Diaden says, his eyes soft in the dim light of a lantern. "What if I've been wrong all this time?"

"Vhenan..." Inthil whispers, sitting up and drawing his head into her lap. "You did not start this war, they did."

"That does not mean I am right." He sighs. His spirit calms at the feeling of her fingers carding through his hair.

"We grew up with the same stories, vhenan. The Fen'Elvhen bring bad luck. The clan has nearly starved many times before because of them." She says. "We cannot break the curse, so we must endure it."

"There was one...he spoke to me." Diaden says quietly. "He said that the curse bends to what we believe of it. I struggle with the meaning of this statement."

"All magic bends to will. If they wished to change the belief about the curse, why plot against us? Why stalk the clan?" She replies. "I have heard they seek to set one of their own in your place as Keeper. One constant of the curse is that Lathvhen will perish if led by one of the Fen'Elvhen. This strategy is an act of violence against every elf in this clan."

"Then this war will be bloodier still." He mumbles, exhaustion finally taking hold of him. He presses his cheek to his lover's swollen belly and smiles when the baby kicks against him. "But perhaps you will never see it." He whispers to the child inside.

"We can only hope." Inthil agrees, but then her expression grows somber. "She will be difficult to hide when she is born."

"So sure it's a girl?" He chuckles.

"Diaden, be serious." She says sternly. "What are we to do? It is far too dangerous for her to be here."

"She will not be here. I trust your sister, she will take her Northward, far away from the Dales...far away from anyone who would wish to bring her harm." He shifts to lay on their bed and tugs Inthil to settle next to him.

"We will never see her." She says, her voice shaking.

"I know." He fights to keep his eyes free of tears, but the pain is clear in his expression. "In another life, we could have had her with us for all our lives, but we were not so lucky. All we can do is keep her safe. There is no other way, vhenan."

She snuggles against his chest, sniffling, and nods. "It will be agony, but you speak the truth."

"Ir abelas, vhenan. You should have led a happy life with the crafter." He says.

This draws a bitter chuckle from her. "Hush, I would never wish anyone else's arms around me."


End file.
